CHAPTER XVII
INDIA
On his road to the house to pack his portmanteau Godfrey went a littleway round to arrange with a blacksmith, generally known as Tom, whojobbed out a pony-trap, to drive him to the station to catch the 7.15train. The blacksmith remarked that they would have to hurry, and setto work to put the pony in, while Godfrey ran on to the Abbey House andhurriedly collected his clothes. He got them packed and down into thehall just as the trap arrived.
As he was entering it the servant put a letter into his hand which shesaid had come for him by the afternoon post. He thrust it into hispocket unlooked at, and off they went at the pony's best pace.
"You are going away oncommon quick, Master Godfrey. Coming back tothese parts soon?" queried the blacksmith.
"No, not for a long while, Tom."
"I think there must have been lightning with that rain," went on Tom,after a pause, "although I heard no thunder. Else how ever did thatmarble angel over poor Lady Jane's grave come down with such a smash?"
Godfrey glanced at him, but Tom remained imperturbable and went on:
"They du say it wor a wunnerful smash, what broke off both the wingsand nearly flattered out some as stood by. Rum thing, Master Godfrey,that the lightning should have picked out the grave of so good a ladyto hit; ondiscriminating thing, lightning is."
"Stop talking humbug, Tom. Were you there?" asked Godfrey.
"Well, not exactly there, Master Godfrey, but I and one or two otherswas nigh, having heard voices louder than the common, just looking overthe churchyard wall, to tell truth."
"Oh!" ejaculated Godfrey, and Tom continued in a reflective voice.
"My! they were two beuties, what you gave that old fat devil of asquire. If he'd been a bull instead of only roaring like one, they'dhave brought him down, to say nothing of parson and the angel."
"I couldn't help it, Tom. I was mad."
"And no wonder, after being crumped on the nut with a tight umbrella.Why, I'd have done the same myself, baronite or no baronite. Oh!there's no need to explain; I knows everything about it, and so doesevery babe in the village by now, not to mention the old women. MasterGodfrey, you take my advice, the next time you go a-courtin' shut thedoor behind you, which I always made a point o' doing when I was young.Being passing that way, I seed parson peeping in, and knowing you wasthere, guessed why. Truth is I came to warn you after he'd gone up tothe Hall, but seein' how you was engaged, thought it a pity tointerrupt, though now I wish I had."
Godfrey groaned; there was nothing to say.
"Well, all the soot's in the cooking-pot now, so to speak," proceededTom blandly, "and we're downright sad about it, we are, for as mymissus was saying, you'd make a pretty pair. But, Lord, Master Godfrey,don't you take it too much to heart, for she's an upright young lady,she is, and steadfast. Or if she ain't, there's plenty of others; alsoone day follows another, as the saying goes, and the worst of oldvarmints don't live for ever. But parson, he beats me, and you his son,so they tell, though I never could think it myself. If he ain't themeanest ferret I ever clapped eyes on, may the old mare fall down andbreak my neck. Well, he'll hear about it, I can promise him, especiallyif he meets my missus what's got a tongue in her head, and is a chapelwoman into the bargain. Lord! there comes the train. Don't you fear,we'll catch her. Hold tight, Master Godfrey, and be ready to jump out.No, no, there ain't nothing to pay. I'll stick it on to parson's farenext time I've druve him. Good-bye, Master Godfrey, and God bless you,if only for that there right and left which warmed my heart to see, andmind ye," he shouted after him, "there's more young women in the worldthan ye meets in an afternoon's walk, and one nail drives another out,as being a smith by trade I knows well."
Godfrey bundled into an empty carriage with his portmanteau and hiscoat, and covered his face with his hands that he might see no more ofthat accursed station whence he seemed always to be departing introuble. So everything had been overheard and seen, and doubtless thestory would travel far and wide. Poor Isobel!
As a matter of fact it did, but it was not Isobel who suffered, sincepublic sympathy was strong on the side of her and of her lover. Theindignation of the neighbourhood concentrated itself upon the squareand the parson, especially the latter. Indeed the village showed itssympathy with the victims and its wrath with the oppressors, by goingon strike. Few beaters turned up at Sir John's next shooting party, andon the following Sunday Mr. Knight preached to empty benches, a vacuumthat continued from week to week. The end of it was he became sounpopular and his strained relations with Sir John grew so notoriousthat the bishop, who like everyone else knew the whole story, gentlysuggested to him that a change of livings would be to his advantage;also to that of the church in Monk's Acre and its neighbourhood.
So Mr. Knight departed to another parish in a remote part of thediocese which, having been inundated by the sea, was almost devoid ofinhabitants, and saw the Abbey and Hawk's Hall no more.